The next day, Li Jiajia had work and couldn’t go home in between. He Qi originally planned to take a taxi alone to view the apartment, but Li Jiajia insisted on going with her.
They coordinated with the landlord, ultimately waking up at 6:30 a.m. for the first time in a long while.
It was just past dawn, the sun barely rising. He Qi, tired, dragged her suitcase down the steps while Li Jiajia, yawning, opened the trunk. Both were too exhausted to talk.
Cold and wet in the early morning, He Qi buried half her face in her scarf. Li Jiajia turned on the car heater, screaming twice to wake herself up.
He Qi rolled her eyes and tried to nap but was caught by Li Jiajia in the rearview mirror, who leaned close and chanted: “No sleeping, no sleeping, no sleeping.”
“All right,” He Qi dragged out the words, forcing her eyes open, smiling at Li Jiajia. “Thanks, I’ll buy you a coffee later.”
The new landlord was a kind middle-aged woman with a local accent. Seeing two young women arrive together, she carefully explained many points in the contract.
Signatures done, payment handed over, the apartment became He Qi’s temporary home.
Everything went smoothly. Li Jiajia checked the time, quickly calculated her coffee expense, and left for work on schedule.
Once Li Jiajia left, He Qi was alone. Though the apartment wasn’t large, it felt empty in a lonely way.
She organized her luggage, thought about what else she needed, and, exhausted, took a nearly two-hour nap.
Awake, she settled on the living room sofa, typing.
The neighborhood had excellent soundproofing—a requirement He Qi had insisted on. Being alone at home all day, doing the work she loved, eating what she liked, felt blissful.
On her first day in the new home, He Qi felt truly happy.
But that happiness abruptly ended at 9:23 p.m., when she received a bank SMS.
A large transfer had been made to one of the savings cards she always used.
He Qi was baffled. She tapped to open the notification and read the full details.
The sender was Chen Jin, and the amount was bizarre—like a string of chaotic verification codes, with even the digit after the decimal point being an exact 3.
She had been staring at her computer all day; her eyes were tired and not sensitive to numbers. She took a deep breath, focused, and counted them one by one.
Units, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten-thousands…
When she finished, her heart skipped a beat. It felt as if the blood in her face was slowly draining, her cheeks turning cold.
She counted again to be certain.
Her laptop slipped off her lap and fell onto the sofa. He Qi grabbed her phone and stood, pacing a small circle in the living room.
Her heart raced harder with every beat, her face alternately hot and cold. She clenched the phone in one hand and patted it with the other, biting her lip, her ears slightly muffled as if under uneven air pressure.
She agonized for two minutes, no further messages coming through, until she could no longer sit still. She dialed Li Jiajia first.
“Hello?” Li Jiajia sounded like she was watching TV, faint background noise drifting in, and she teased, “Missing me already?”
He Qi ignored the teasing, her voice tense and urgent: “Have you seen Chen Jin?”
Li Jiajia immediately noticed something was wrong, paused the TV, and spoke more seriously: “I saw him just now when I went downstairs to take out the trash.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“I just told him what you said yesterday—that you’re no longer here—but didn’t reveal your address.”
He Qi bit the inside of her cheek, standing near the wall. She pressed against the white wall and turned, feeling an impulse to bang her head, though she only dared to tap her forehead lightly twice.
She stayed silent for a long moment. Li Jiajia, sensing something, sat up straight and asked, “What happened?”
He Qi didn’t know how to put it into words. She glanced out the living room window at the sparse lights.
Her voice caught several times before she spoke, helpless yet incredulous: “He transferred all his money into my account.”
Silence fell on both ends of the line.
Li Jiajia swallowed, her exaggeratedly wide-eyed expression comical, and after a long pause, she confirmed: “All of it?”
He Qi: “Mm.”
Li Jiajia: “Damn.”
Clearly, this was beyond the scope of what either of them could handle. They stared at their phones across the distance, neither daring to speak.
He Qi leaned against the wall, gradually calming herself, massaging her brow. She made up her mind: “Forget it. I’ll ask him.”
Li Jiajia could only say, “Okay,” but seeing He Qi not hang up, cautiously added, “Or I could ask him too, he’s probably still downstairs.”
“No need,” He Qi replied immediately. “I’ll do it myself.”
She pressed the hang-up button. The phone screen returned to the dial pad. Her fingers hovered, hesitant.
She typed a short number, then paused and pressed delete three times before typing rapidly, as if intentionally leaving herself no time to reconsider.
The eleven-digit number appeared, with “Chen Jin” labeled below. He Qi pressed call hard and brought the phone to her ear.
The default ringing only sounded twice before the call connected.
Chen Jin’s voice came from a seemingly open space, clear and calm, with a hint of teasing provocation: “Hello?”
He Qi drew a deep breath, went to the sofa, and habitually sat on the carpet: “What are you doing?”
Chen Jin held a half-full bottle of milk in his left hand, tapping the cap with a fingertip, knowingly asking: “What’s wrong?”
He Qi didn’t want to beat around the bush. “The money.”
“I gave it to you,” Chen Jin replied just as bluntly.
He Qi nearly choked: “You wanted my bank card to get frozen?”
Chen Jin took a moment to understand her logic, probably worried that such a large transfer would trigger bank controls. He mused: “It won’t get frozen as long as you don’t transfer it back to me.”
“Are you not afraid I’ll disappear with it? I could go abroad and cut off contact.”
“Go ahead and spend it.” Chen Jin seemed to laugh lightly, almost like an illusion. “You should buy Aunt a house first. At least then I’d know where you are.”
He Qi frowned: “You’ve got to be kidding, Chen Jin. You and my mom did all sorts of things behind my back, remember? And now you expect me to take your money to buy her a house?”
Once this topic came up, He Qi couldn’t stay calm. Chen Jin had no footing to argue.
He gripped the milk bottle, opened the car door, and got in: “Tell me first—where are you living now?”
He Qi replied coldly: “Impossible.”
“You want me to harass Li Jiajia? Bring a loudspeaker downstairs and shout a missing person notice?” Chen Jin’s tone was malicious, clearly guessing that part of He Qi’s move was to give her friend some peace.
He Qi raised an indifferent eyebrow: “Fine, go ahead.”
She was certain Chen Jin wouldn’t actually harass her friend, just as she was sure he couldn’t stop her from disappearing with the money.
They knew each other’s character, morals, and principles so well that when unexpected events happened, they seemed so incredible, so unforgivable.
Neither could persuade the other, nor could they threaten the other. Even if both wanted to end the stalemate, their methods were entirely different.
For a long while, both ends of the line remained silent, only the sound of their breathing.
He Qi was the first to hang up.
Leaning against the sofa cushion, her head sagging backward, arms draped over bent knees, she felt restless.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked—it was a WeChat message from Chen Jin:
「What time are you getting up tomorrow? Advance me breakfast money, I’ll transfer any extra back to your card.」
What the hell?
He Qi pressed her palm to her head, ruffling and scratching her hair.
She stared at the message for three seconds before finally pressing the power button to turn off the screen.
The money’s already in my pocket, and you still want to meddle? Hah! Let Chen Jin go to hell.
The farcical days sometimes felt like an eternity, other times like they passed in a snap.
Soon it was early December.
Since that night’s call, Chen Jin had entered a routine of “begging for meals,” sending He Qi WeChat updates about what he ate each meal, how much it cost, and occasionally other expenses.
He Qi never replied, seemingly determined to keep her “take the money and run” promise.
Chen Jin had no money left, but as long as he could keep his pride, he wouldn’t starve.
He Qi was curious how long he could continue budgeting so carefully before his next paycheck.
During this period, Xu Yan also called once. He Qi didn’t answer, but after a couple of absent-minded hours, she unblocked Xu Yan on WeChat—yet received no message.
Then came a huge piece of good news—He Qi’s article passed the final review.
The message came from editor Luo Luo. He Qi paced three laps in the living room, trying to calm down before coordinating the follow-up.
Judy’s New Home would be published next month, in the January issue of the children’s literature journal, with payment due upon publication.
With everything settled, He Qi shared the news with Li Jiajia.
Li Jiajia had just finished work. Without hesitation, she called, already frazzled from her job, insisting He Qi treat her to a meal.
“Look at you,” He Qi teased. “You want me to spend before I even get paid. How about tomorrow night, at that barbecue place near my old company? I’ll invite Zhang Xinyi too.”
Someone treating her meant Li Jiajia didn’t object. She had met Zhang Xinyi once before through He Qi, so it wouldn’t be awkward, and immediately agreed.
While checking on Zhang Xinyi, He Qi received a WeChat from Li Xiulan.
Opening it, she felt Li Xiulan’s messages always arrived so timely, giving the illusion she was constantly being watched.
「After the January issue is published, you’ll get a copy. I suggest you study the other articles carefully. Just because I approved yours doesn’t mean it’s all that impressive.」
The tone was familiar.
He Qi finished reading, her mood unmoved. Perhaps she’d grown used to it, never expecting praise from Liu Xiulan. Besides, passing the final review was a milestone for her—she didn’t need external validation.
Compared to Li Xiulan’s harsh words, another fact struck her more.
The editor for the final review was Li Xiulan herself.
She held the power to approve or reject every article—and she had approved He Qi’s work, albeit still criticizing afterward.
Leaning against the wall, He Qi stared at the screen and laughed to herself.
Her article had been seen by Li Xiulan twice: once with Li Jiajia’s help, once on her own.
A wave of satisfaction filled her, even greater than when she first learned her article had passed.
Like a little madwoman, she replied to Li Xiulan’s harsh message, shamelessly typing happily: 「Thank you, Teacher Li. I will keep working hard!」
After a while, no reply came.
He Qi exited the chat with Li Xiulan, happily waiting for Zhang Xinyi’s message, scrolling through contacts, opening and closing Chen Jin’s page, then Xu Yan’s page.
Suddenly, a message popped up—not from anyone she expected.
Fang Yi: “Sister, I have two tickets for tomorrow night’s musical. Let’s go together.”
He Qi opened the ticket image Fang Yi sent. It was a fairly famous musical, one even she—someone who didn’t usually pay attention to such things—had heard of. Tickets were hard to come by.
Lately, Fang Yi had used all sorts of excuses to invite He Qi, only to be rejected every time, just like now.
“Why don’t you ask some other friends? Sorry, I’m not very interested in musicals, and I’ve got dinner plans with friends tomorrow night.”
Having been rejected so many times, Fang Yi had figured out He Qi’s temperament and developed a principle of “don’t be discouraged, don’t pester.” He simply sent a resigned “Alright” as if to pout.
A few minutes after He Qi declined Fang Yi, Zhang Xinyi declined for the same reason.
“Sorry, Qi-jie, I already have plans with a friend tomorrow night. Can’t join you guys.”
He Qi didn’t mind. She just thought of Fang Yi while typing a short “Alright” in reply.
Was this a little tit-for-tat?
On a weekday evening, the barbecue restaurant was as bustling as ever. The place was clean, and He Qi had often come here with colleagues back when she worked at her previous company.
After ordering, He Qi asked for another pitcher of beer, drawing a curious glance from Li Jiajia. “I’ve got work tomorrow, can’t drink that much.”
“I’ll drink,” He Qi said with a mischievous grin.
Li Jiajia lightly tapped her with the menu. “Trying to tempt me on purpose? Testing my willpower?”
He Qi nodded. “Just for fun.”
The food arrived quickly, and the beer even faster.
Li Jiajia really didn’t touch alcohol, sticking to soda with fried skewers. She watched He Qi drink heartily and knew that if she started, she couldn’t stop herself, so it was better to abstain completely.
Pitcher after pitcher was brought over. He Qi drank without showing it on her face, making it hard to tell how intoxicated she really was.
When the waiter raised an eyebrow at her for ordering yet another beer, Li Jiajia finally sensed something was off. She picked up a couple of baby cabbage leaves and asked, “You okay? Drinking so much today?”
It was noisy around them; He Qi only stared at Li Jiajia’s moving lips, her gaze going blank.
Seeing her spacing out like that, Li Jiajia told the waiter to stop bringing more alcohol and ordered three more garlic oysters for herself.
Fortunately, He Qi didn’t go crazy drunk. Even in her daze, she sat quietly, eating slowly, taking whatever was put on her plate.
Li Jiajia found it amusing, snapped a photo of her, and posted it on social media with the caption, “Turns out she becomes a well-behaved child when drunk,” casually blocking Chen Jin.
After finishing most of the food and seeing another group of late-night diners arriving, Li Jiajia took He Qi to pay, partly to observe how drunk she actually was.
The answer: it was impossible to tell.
He Qi handled the payment smoothly, even understanding what the cashier said, and still had the mental energy to grab some mints from the counter.
Li Jiajia suspected she wasn’t drunk at all, but something seemed slightly off, so she decided to test her: “Where should I take you?”
“Home,” He Qi said flatly.
“Of course I know ‘home,’” Li Jiajia coaxed, “but which home are you going to?”
He Qi didn’t answer. After a slow pause, she finally muttered, “Why?”
Being stared at like an idiot by a drunk person.
Li Jiajia was momentarily at a loss, scratched her chin, still puzzled, and tried again: “You’re drunk—”
Her words were cut off by a commotion on her right.
They both turned to see the source: a man and a woman. The man had his back to them, face unseen, and was swinging chopsticks at the woman across from him.
The woman’s face was partially obscured. Li Jiajia tiptoed and leaned around to get a better look, finally recognizing her.
“Shit!” she froze, cursing. “Isn’t that Zhang Xinyi?”
At the same time, the man across raised his hand, seemingly about to strike.
The two women at the counter rushed toward the scene.